DISCLAIMER - None of these characters belongs to me - a cause
of much regret, I assure you - I'm just playing with them for a while. I'll
put them back where I found them, I promise. The story, on the other hand,
such as it is, is mine, copyright December 2000.

THE
MOTH

by Karen Colohan

It was close to midnight and the oppressive heat of the day had given
way to a more sleepy warmth that blanketed the silent pueblo. The moon was
the merest sliver of silver in the sky and shadows seemed to inhabit every
darkened corner. If one looked carefully enough, a compact figure dressed
entirely in dark, concealing clothing could be seen moving stealthily through
the night - closer and then closer still to its objective.

The blocky silhouette of the doctor's office lay just ahead. It had long
been closed for the night, but the warm glow of lantern light still spilled
from the window of his living quarters. It was like a beacon to the silent
figure outside. As a moth is drawn to the flame, so the shadowy shape crept
even closer.

The latch on the outer door was no challenge at all to skilled fingers.
Cat quiet, the intruder slipped inside, pulling the door closed so as not
to betray their presence to anyone who might happen to pass by outside. Padding
across the floor, sharp eyes searched until they located the door they sought
- the one to the doctor's bedchamber. It was open just a crack and the silent
figure peered through, drawing in a hushed breath of anticipation. Just in
time...

A single lamp illuminated the room and the tall, slim form of the doctor
himself as he prepared for bed. Avid blue eyes followed his progress around
the small space, admiring the lithe grace of his body and his movements.

Quite oblivious to his audience Robert Helm began to undress. He tossed
aside his dusty waistcoat first and then long, strong fingers set to work
on the buttons of his white linen shirt.

There was no conscious exhibitionism in the doctor's gestures, but,
nevertheless, outside the bedroom door the silent watcher began to breathe
more rapidly, chest rising and falling unevenly. Narrow lips, framed by a
neatly trimmed beard, parted as Colonel Luis Montoya gazed on the - currently
- unobtainable object of his lust.

It was not the first night he had watched like this, but he dared not
do more - at least, not yet. He had made guarded overtures to the doctor
on several occasions, but they had been ignored with apparent innocence...
apparent only until he had looked into knowing hazel eyes and read the tacit
warning there. Do not pursue this, Helm's gaze had cautioned, and for now
Montoya was prepared to maintain the status quo. Let the doctor believe he
had conceded, until the time was right. Every man had his Achilles heel and
once he found Robert Helm's...

In the meantime, the colonel indulged himself with occasional late night
visits like this. It was enough to take the edge off his desires - so that
he might keep his hands off the doctor in public. And there was a certain
piquancy to these stolen moments of pleasure. It amused Montoya to have this
secret from the good doctor - let Helm wonder if, from time to time, he noticed
a certain speculative gleam in his eyes as they conversed.

Meanwhile, inside the bedroom, the doctor had continued disrobing. Slowly
a smooth, muscular torso was revealed, the pale skin gilded by the wash of
lamplight. And in the hollow of his throat the faintest sheen of sweat glistened
- testimony to the heat of the night, even at this late hour.

The enticing sight meant that more than one person's temperature was being
raised. Montoya felt the flush of arousal begin to spread across his own
skin, settling heavily between his thighs and bringing with it a dampness
of an entirely different kind. He slid a hand down to loosen the fastenings
of his breeches, slipping his fingers inside briefly to touch the growing
hardness. But not for even a single second did his steady gaze leave the
doctor.

Helm himself was still blissfully unaware of either the presence of his
audience of one, or the effect his actions were inciting. He dropped down
onto the end of his narrow bed, bending to remove his boots. He kicked them
away with a sigh of pleasure - his feet were aching after such a long day.
He took a moment to ease cramped muscles, arching his slender feet and then
stretching them until some of the tension ebbed away.

Standing up again, the doctor's hands now went to his waistband. With
quick motions he undid his breeches and slid them over his hips and down
long, finely shaped legs. He stepped out of them, leaving him clad only in
his underclothes.

To the colonel's frustration Helm made no attempt to remove these. Instead
he walked across to his washstand - which did have the added benefit of allowing
Montoya a fine view of the muscular buttocks swathed in nothing more than
clinging linen underwear. The doctor then filled the basin with water from
a pitcher and set about washing the accumulated dust and sweat of the day
from his body.

He lathered up a cloth and wiped it first across his sharp, aristocratic
features, pushing aside errant strands of the soft, dark hair which fell
across his forehead. Then his almost indecently long neck came in for its
share of attention, the cloth stroking firmly down its sinewy length before
being returned to the basin to be soaped anew. Next, Helm bathed his chest,
the rough washcloth dragging over dark nipples which contracted to hard nubs
at the touch of the cool water.

In the shadows outside the bedroom door Montoya watched every pass of
the cloth and each response the doctor's body made to it. He felt another
sharp jolt of lust as he imagined laving those dark peaks with his tongue,
then drawing them into his hungry mouth to suckle and bite until the normally
composed doctor was moaning with pleasure.

As it was, it was Montoya himself who was hard put not to moan out loud
at the mental images he had conjured up. The tip of his tongue swept over
suddenly dry lips, moistening them. With an effort he forced his attention
back to where the doctor continued his ablutions.

Done with soaping himself, Helm now set about rinsing his body off with
clean water. Sparkling droplets made silvery trails down the pale torso as
the lather was carefully washed away. When he was finished the doctor made
a small sound of contentment low in his throat, clearly pleased to feel his
skin fresh and clean once more.

Then he reached for the towel he had set nearby. For one glorious moment
- from the point of view of Montoya, still observing from outside - the doctor
stood, his entire body limned by the golden light from the lamp. Water beaded
on his skin like jewels and his muscles were thrown into relief as he stretched
out his hand for the towel. Then the rough material covered the beautiful
sight as Helm scrubbed briskly at his wet skin.

When he was dry the doctor discarded the towel once more and Montoya held
his breath. This was the moment he had been waiting for - the highlight of
the evening's entertainment as it were - as Helm dropped his hands to the
waistband of his underclothes. Without ceremony the doctor pushed them down,
baring everything to the rapt onlooker. Then he bent to pick them up and
place them with the rest of his dirty clothes.

The movement gave Montoya plenty of time to look his fill. The perfectly
shaped buttocks were finely muscled - smooth and pale. It was a tempting
prospect to consider reddening that ivory skin, with hand or crop, taming
the doctor until he accepted the saddle like any of Montoya's spirited
stallions.

And speaking of stallions... As Helm turned back in his direction the
colonel was put in mind of the old adage about saving the best until last.
In this case it was certainly true. The doctor's long, uncut cock nestled
quiescent amidst sparse dark curls and the sac beneath was a veritable invitation
to fondle and grope.

Ah yes... Montoya let his mind play with pleasant - and arousing - images
of claiming that treasure as his own. First he would take the shaft in hand
and stroke it until it began to lengthen and harden. Then, as he lavished
more attention upon it, the tip would push free of its protective hood of
skin, glistening with moisture. And it would be a joy to lick and suck that
smooth flesh, tasting the earthy flavour of the doctor's cock until he spasmed
with the pleasure of it, yielding his seed to Montoya's hungry mouth.

Hands clenched as the colonel tried to dispel the alluring images. They
were too dangerous. An incautious sound and he could be discovered - and
now was not the right time. The doctor would not consent to such a dalliance
- not yet. But Montoya would find the leverage he needed to persuade Robert
Helm to come to his bed. He might never do so willingly, but Montoya was
determined that he would submit - with the application of the correct
pressure.

Idly, Montoya wondered where the man did take his pleasure. He'd not been
seen in the company of anyone from the pueblo and yet, surely, he had his
needs. A good, strong cock like that - no doubt it demanded release. It would
be a pity if the good doctor always had to resort to the comfort of his own
hand. It had its place, but still...

The thought of Helm pleasuring himself was almost too much for Montoya.
He knew he had to leave before he gave himself away and denied himself the
possibility of future late night visits. His eyes hungrily followed the naked
form of the doctor as he moved around the room, setting it to rights before
retiring. He seemed in no hurry to don a nightshirt and the colonel made
the most of his opportunity to look.

Finally, Montoya forced himself to back away from the door. He was breathing
hard as he concentrated on leaving as silently as he had come. The ache at
his groin was now almost unbearable and the colonel knew he would have to
bring himself some relief before he made his way back through the pueblo
to his quarters.

Once outside Montoya retreated into the deepest shadows behind the doctor's
office. In the humid darkness he slipped a hand inside too-tight breeches,
touching himself and encouraging the growing arousal. With just a little
imagination it was easy to let himself believe that it was Doctor Helm's
hand pleasuring him - the fingers long, strong and very skilled. They stroked
and probed and drew Montoya ever closer to the brink. Ah yes, so good...
It was becoming harder to keep quiet as the sensations built, but Montoya
had no intention of stopping now.

As Doctor Helm finally slid into his bed, pulling the light sheet up to
cover his body, Colonel Montoya reached the point of no return. He leaned
his forehead against the cool plaster of the wall, holding the image of that
beautiful, naked form in his mind. He had to bite his lip hard to keep from
crying out as he spilled over his own hand. The aftershocks had him shuddering
for several moments more, but eventually he released a long, steadying breath,
finding his composure.

Montoya had once, early in their acquaintance, told the doctor that he
needed him. At the time this had not been what he had in mind, but now...
He had to have that lean, muscular body in his bed - and soon. He wanted
to bury his cock between those perfect buttocks until the good doctor screamed
out his delight and submission. And it would happen. What Luis Montoya
wanted...

For now he withdrew his hand from his breeches and wiped it clean on his
handkerchief before straightening his attire. Glancing towards the window,
Montoya noted that the doctor had put out the lamp and there was nothing
more to be seen tonight. But there would be other nights. His immediate lust
satisfied Montoya slipped away as stealthily as he had arrived, letting the
shadows cover him as he made his way back to his own quarters.

The colonel was not entirely unobserved, though. From a nearby window
Captain Marcus Grisham had watched the figure of his superior officer steal
out of the doctor's house and hurriedly disappear into the darkness. What
could he have wanted there at this time of night? And why the secrecy? Why
indeed...

Grisham was far from inexperienced in illicit liaisons and a highly
interesting suspicion began to take shape in his mind. Well, well, he'd never
have considered that possibility before; the doctor didn't seem the
type, but with Montoya anything was possible. Grisham smiled slowly - it
wasn't a pleasant expression - what might he be able to do with this new-found
knowledge? He didn't know yet, but he was sure he could think of something
to his advantage. Montoya deserved a little payback after the fiasco with
the doctor's stolen medicine.

The smile widened, became a calculating grin. Grisham was well aware that
people tended to underestimate him, but not this time. This was a perfect
bargaining chip if ever he'd held one. Grisham turned away from the window
feeling more than a little pleased with himself. Just occasionally life was
very good...